


Things That Belong to Rin

by lecanis



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2173836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecanis/pseuds/lecanis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To include: a left-behind jacket, two hearts, and a confused moment of desperation.</p><p>Aka Ai sucks Sousuke's dick while they both think about Rin. That's it. Really. And minor ES! 8 spoiler I guess, since it takes place after a scene from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Belong to Rin

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed and written while rather ill and on medication, read at your own risk.

     It’s not necessary to understand a thing to be grateful for it, Aiichiro has learned. He can’t quite fathom the reasons behind someone who intimidates him quite a bit suddenly taking time out of his night to coach him during his not-so-secret late swimming practice, but that doesn’t stop him from being determined to make the most of it. Yamazaki-senpai isn’t the first scary senpai that he’s dealt with, and while he’s not as certain of what lies behind his rough demeanor as he is of Rin-senpai’s, he’s starting to grasp why they’re friends.

     After the practice session should be far simpler. Shower, change, go to bed. He won’t think about whether the next time he goes to practice Yamazaki will come to help him again, nor will he think about whether Rin will come and quietly set a snack for him down next to his favorite duck towel. Those are things that can be appreciated, but never taken for granted. The first part of his post-practice plan goes into action easily enough, but sore muscles - worth it! - make the shower take a little longer than it should, lead him to be stepping out late enough that he’s expected to be already gone and in bed.

     Or at least, that’s the only reason that he can think of that he’d wander in on a certain well-built senpai sitting in the main pool area holding a jacket up and burying his face in it. That’s just not the kind of thing that anyone - let alone any teenage boy! - would be doing where they expected someone to walk by any minute. Or maybe it was just that the older boy had been distracted enough he’d forgotten Aiichiro was there? The slender second-year was probably pretty forgettable, he told himself, as he stopped just a few steps into the pool area, his eyes wide and his teeth burrowing into his lips, as if he were biting down on a greeting.

     Perhaps during the day he’d feel a little more uncertain about it. He’s thoroughly worn out, and there’s a certain amount of not-thinking that happens with that, an intensifying of the leaping-to-conclusions habit that he is desperately trying to outgrow. Perhaps during the day even if he did leap to the conclusion, he’d keep his mouth shut about it, turn around and walk out, pretend he didn’t see anything. But it’s not daytime now, it’s the middle of the night and he’s bone-weary, despite the renewed enthusiasm Yamazaki-senpai’s help has lent him.

     “That’s Rin-senpai’s,” he says, and maybe it’s an accusation, just a little.

     “Yeah,” comes the reply. The eyes that look at Aiichiro over the jacket are the same eyes that have chilled him before, more than once. Even though Yamazaki has helped him, has given him both the pep talk and the critique that he so desperately needed in the moment, it doesn’t change the utter cool in those depths. There’s no shame there either; because it is late, perhaps? The same thing that leads his own guard to be down affecting the older boy?

     “You… for him… you?” But for all that he has a few dirty magazines hidden away - properly stored now - he can’t quite think of the way to accuse someone of that. There are too many layers of taboo there, so many reasons why it’s not something you can just say, even if you might be inclined toward such things yourself, or considering it.

     There’s no verbal answer, but that glare doesn’t intensify either, or turn away. Instead, the older boy simply pushes himself up from where he’s sitting and slings the jacket over his shoulder, just like he might his own. He starts to walk, but Aiichiro finds himself moving quite suddenly toward him, too fast for where they’re at, entirely inappropriate near the pool. He registers that fact just as detachedly as he registers the fact that there’s a tent in Yamazaki’s pants, and the fact that the shoulder the jacket is hanging over is hunched, pushing hand and jacket against his senpai’s face slightly.

     “Wait!” he cries, and he doesn’t know why, isn’t thinking about it beyond that there’s something more they have in common than he thought, and that the moment Yamazaki walks out that door back to the rest of the dorms they won’t ever talk about it again, that he won’t be able to make himself bring it up and it’s this one chance to admit something that maybe everyone suspects and maybe no one does.

     All he gets in respone to the plea is a grunt, but that might be related to the fact that Aiichiro has just managed to flailingly smack right into the bigger body before him, has managed to bury his face against a stray sleeve of the pilfered jacket hanging against Yamazaki’s chest. He blinks stupidly, uncertain what to even do in this situation, except that then he registers just how close he is, and how what his eyes suspected has been confirmed by his body as he comes up short against the older boy, who is as usual strangely kinder than expected, reaching out to brace him so he doesn’t actually fall.

     No, he doesn’t fall. Instead, when he slides downward, it’s with that steadying hand on his shoulder trying to tug upward, obviously not expecting Aiichiro’s own movement. There’s another grunt of surprise, but nothing more, as he closes his eyes and nuzzles, his entire body tense with the sheer audacity of it. He wants to say something, to give some instruction to think about Rin while he does it, or some request to perhaps lower that jacket a little so he can do just what Yamazaki was doing before and bury his nose in it, before or after or during the other things he’s about to bury his face in.

     In the end, nothing is said. He expects some kind of protest, perhaps even being slapped away, but there’s nothing at all from above him. He tilts his head back, looks, and still nothing. Just a sort of quiet tension, as if the older boy is waiting to see what he will do, if he’s really going to do this. There’s an understanding that happens too, and it’s also quiet, nothing more than a rustling of cloth as the request Aiichiro hasn’t dared to make is catered to anyway, the jacket being moved so that Yamazaki is holding it up in front of himself again.

     A stray sleeve dangles just far enough, and Aiichiro shifts his focus for just a moment to breathe in the scent. It’s the same chlorine scent that clings to them all, perhaps, but there’s something individual in there too, even if he can’t quite define the note. Or maybe it’s just his mind saying that, but either way it’s enough to spur him on. 

     He doesn’t look up to see if the other boy has closed his own eyes. The movement is enough to remind him that they’re both thinking of someone else, and he has no doubt that Yamazaki has his face buried in that jacket again himself. The shuffling of clothing - only the older boy’s, not his own - is strangely loud in the silence, and the nervous swallow he makes is equally loud. He almost fears that Yamazaki will hear it, but it’s not like he’s the kind of person to tease even if he did, Aiichiro supposes. What type of person he is… that’s still something being figured out, but apparently he’s the type who carries a torch hot enough that he’ll let someone else go down on him by the pool in the middle of the night while thinking of that person.

     Then again, he’s only just now discovering he’s the type of person to have his very first sexual experience on his knees before someone he barely knows while thinking of a mutual crush, so maybe he shouldn’t talk. He doesn’t talk, merely starts with a series of slow licks that finish what apparently sniffing the jacket started, getting Yamazaki’s dick nice and stiff and damp at the end. Aiichiro doesn’t have a lot of thought on the size, though it’s bigger than his own, because it’s not like he intends to have it shoved anywhere that such a thing should matter. Not even down his throat, he hopes, but the strange quiet encounter is almost awkwardly pleasant so far, so there doesn’t seem much risk of that.

     Dick doesn’t really taste that nice. There’s that faint lingering chlorine, to be expected, and sweat which is also to be expected. Bitterness of precum when he slides his tongue along the slit, but he’s tasted his own before out of curiosity, so that’s not particularly new either. A slightly different tang to it, maybe, but he’s not a connoisseur to think about that. It’s not too disgusting to continue, so he continues, sliding his mouth over the tip and sucking down and hoping that he’s doing it right.

     He doesn’t have the teeth for this, he realizes belatedly. Well, teeth aren’t something that most people want there anyway, but if he’s really supposed to be mimicking Rin, then his teeth are all wrong. Would Rin’s get in the way of this? But that thought kills his own buzz a little, because while he’s supposed to be standing in, so is the boy before him. He pushes it out of his head, and focuses on his own fantasy, on the way the thigh beneath one hand trembles, the shaft in the other pulses. His entire focus is on his partner’s body now, feeling each tiny shift of stance as the older boy tries to stay comfortable standing while being touched, each slight loss of control that causes a small twitch of hips forward.

     That’s what’s missing, he decides. If this were Rin, he’d try to have that control, of course. He’d never be rough with Aiichiro on purpose, or so the boy believes. But Rin - even now, even this year when he’s doing better - is too passionate for that self-control to be this close to complete.

     One hand strays from the strong thigh it’s clutching, and just as Aiichiro pushes his mouth down a little further, running his tongue along a vein, he captures and pulls toward the back of his head a large strong hand, settling it where he wants it just as he’s settled himself on his knees here. The hint is taken, perhaps, or maybe Yamazaki - no, Rin, he’s thinking about Rin! - simply goes along without really understanding, but however it is, the fingers grasp his hair just so, and Aiichiro gives a pleased little sigh around his mouthful.

     Dick isn’t really that easy to shove in your mouth, he finds. Oh, sure, it looks easy enough in porn, but the problem is that it swells and shifts and twitches, and that now that he’s encouraged a little playing along he’s got to try to do his own thing and not choke or close up when the hips move, or the hand pulls a bit at his hair, or… oh, it’s so much harder like this, but so much nicer too.

     He might just cry if he doesn’t touch himself soon. He can feel the need to growing quickly, and he’s squirming down on the floor, pushing his legs together and then spreading them and leaning forward and back as if somehow he’ll find just the right pose and his own crotch won’t ache. Should he do it now? Should he wait? He’s not going to ask anything in return - not of senpai! - so it doesn’t matter, does it? But can he really keep up with touching himself and touching senpai - it’s so much simpler not to think the name at all, isn’t it now? - at the same time.

     He finds himself trying it, but shyly, his hand down his shorts without any attempt to take them down. He’s already changed into his pajamas, and it reminds him he’s supposed to be in bed now, and he’s not sure if later he’ll wish he’d done that or not. His shorts are loose enough that his hand moves all right in them, though nowhere near as smoothly as if he were brave enough to get his dick out of them, and within a couple of strokes he’s pretty sure it’s not going to matter.

     There’s a strangled groan from above him. It’s followed by a tug at his hair, a couple of quick thrusts that do take his air away entirely, and a near-sob that he can’t really recognize as being from this person at all. Wait, that’s wrong, senpai cries a lot, of course it’s normal for him to cry! That’s right. It’s all very clear now, isn’t it? He lets himself indulge in that line of thinking, focuses on nothing but keeping panic out of the whole thing… and then there’s enough backing off for proper breath and it’s all fine.

     For a second. And then there’s the hot splash of bitter seed, and wow that’s a lot more difficult to swallow than he’d expected, and he finds himself plopping back on his ass, his hand still down his shorts, blinking stupidly up at the wrong face and hearing the wrong voice mutter a sort of half-audible apology.

     The jacket falls over his face, and he doesn’t lift it. He doesn’t look to see the figure walking away - doesn’t want to see it - and doesn’t think about the fact that what had seemed a precious treasure is now being left to him. Well, it has to be given back anyway, he supposes, as he slips one arm through a sleeve, leaves off touching himself long enough to do the same with the other, and then flops back against the cold hard floor.

     Funnily enough, there’s nothing left in his mind. Only an eventual stickiness in his shorts, and a reminder to himself that he can’t sleep here, and no question at all about what’s happened or what will happen. If nothing else, there’s one thing he’s sure of:

     He never has to worry about whether he’s the only one in the world who has ever felt this desperate again.

  
  
  



End file.
